3 bar menu

Vol.7, Ch.3, P.6

Six centuries past, a young and gentle Rakliammelech lived in a valley village. Atop soil and under sun he toiled, daily, quietly, to bring bread to the board, and withal to nurse his only family: his lame but beloved mother.

Till one day, violence visited upon the village. Nafílim forces were come, wreaking wanton death and ruin. And when the sun had set and they had passed, Rakliammelech found himself horribly hurt, and his mother murdered and marred beyond recognition.

In the days that followed, Rakliammelech consumed himself in supplication. He prayed for his mother’s peace; he sued for Suffering’s cease; and he pleaded. Pleaded for some power, any power at all, to resist the world’s Unreason. And come piling snow or panging storm or parching summer, such were his prayers, and such was his persistence. Forsooth, this